


Overtures of Friendship

by LeeBlack



Series: Wolves at Your Door [8]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, But warning just in case, Conversations, I like Jennifer, M/M, Peter has a little bit of panic, Spark Stiles Stilinski, Tags Are Hard, Talking in a Diner, also i may have accidentally a plot here, because I'm always down for diner food, do not copy to another site, maybe a hint of it, not a big one, potential panic attack, witches get stuff done
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-30
Updated: 2020-07-08
Packaged: 2021-03-04 05:01:13
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,997
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24997993
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LeeBlack/pseuds/LeeBlack
Summary: Peter rolled his eyes and slid his plate of nachos over toward Stiles. “There’s extra jalapenos in this, pet,” he said, looking over at Stiles. “What has you in such a chipper mood?”Stiles’ grin grew bigger. “I am no longer a virgin,” he said, loud enough to garner a few stares and bouts of laughter from the people in the neighboring booths.
Relationships: Peter Hale/Stiles Stilinski
Series: Wolves at Your Door [8]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1720972
Comments: 52
Kudos: 996





	1. Chapter 1

Stiles dropped into the booth next to Peter, an unrepentant grin on his face as he stole the older man’s coffee and took a large swallow of it.

“I was drinking that,” Peter complained mildly, though he made no attempt to reclaim the coffee.

He snorted. “You drink your coffee with cinnamon, dude. This is a mocha. Don’t even front.”

Peter rolled his eyes and slid his plate of nachos over toward Stiles. “There’s extra jalapenos in this, pet,” he said, looking over at Stiles. “What has you in such a chipper mood?”

Stiles’ grin grew bigger. “I am no longer a virgin,” he said, loud enough to garner a few stares and bouts of laughter from the people in the neighboring booths.

“Is that so?” The question was asked with that same mild tone, though there was an odd tightening around Peter’s eyes that Stiles hadn’t expected to see. “Who’s the lucky boy?”

“Lucky _girl_ ,” Stiles corrected.

That had Peter’s expression smoothing out a bit. “Oh?”

Stiles nodded. “There was a party over in Beacon Valley last night and Heather invited me.”

“Heather?”

“Yeah, we went to elementary school together before my mom got sick,” Stiles said, doing his best to come across as nonchalant, though he couldn’t prevent his voice from cracking at the mention of his mother. “She invited me out to Beacon Valley and we went to a party together.”

Peter hummed slightly. “And that led to you losing your virginity?”

Stiles nodded again. “Don’t skip to the best parts of the story, dude,” he said, an unrepentant grin taking over his face. “Turns out, Heather’s been with her girlfriend Tori for like two years now but they’re on a break and apparently I was on Heather’s list. Like, her _list_. Where she’s allowed to sleep with me without it counting as cheating.” He puffed up his chest, adopting his best attempt at an arrogant look that he knew he wasn’t pulling off successfully. “I’m attractive to lesbians.”

Peter couldn’t help but hold back the amused smirk at that. “And how was sex with a lesbian?”

“Good enough to confirm for her that she’s only into the ladies, and good enough for me to confirm that I’m at least bi and also no longer a viable candidate to be sacrificed by nomad witches or some shit,” Stiles said. “Because Beacon Hills is apparently on a Hellmouth.”

“What makes you say that?”

Stiles snorted. “Dude, we’ve had werewolves, kanimas, and insane hunters running loose in this town. Plus Derek on a rabid ego trip. I wasn’t passing up the opportunity to make sure that I’m not going to be snatched as a virgin sacrifice by a clan of troubadour witches,” he said.

“Technically speaking, a clan of witches wouldn’t likely pose as troubadours,” a female voice said suddenly. “Traveling troubadours would more likely end up being Fae rather than human witches. Or sirens, I suppose, but you’re not near enough to water for that to be entirely plausible.”

Stiles flushed red as he finally noticed the woman sitting across from him and Peter. “Um.”

“Allow me to introduce Jennifer Anand, wife of Kali Anand and Emissary to the Anand Pack,” Peter said, amusement turning almost vicious. “Jennifer, this is Stiles. Human in the Hale Pack, burgeoning mage, my rather adorable pet, and apparently freshly deflowered.”

Stiles ducked his head, wondering if he could hide behind the coffee mug. Or spontaneously burst into flames from sheer humiliation.

Jennifer leaned forward a bit, smiling almost indulgently. She was a pretty brunette, watching Stiles with amused gray eyes. “A pleasure to meet you.”

“Sure,” Stiles mumbled, still consumed by his mortification. “Not like I bragged about losing my virginity to another Pack’s Emissary or anything.”

“Particularly not one you decided to antagonize over Words with Friends,” she said, grinning.

Stiles sank into the booth, debating the merits of throwing the coffee and bolting out of the restaurant.

Peter chuckled quietly, almost like he knew what Stiles was thinking. “As I understand, it was your friend Ennis who provided the opportunity for antagonizing you.” 

Jennifer cocked her head to the side a bit, apparently deciding to go easy on him. “If it’s any consolation, I was equally happy to have lost my own virginity,” she offered. “Much for the same reason as yours. It’s not entirely uncommon, especially for those of us aware of the potential risks of being used as a human sacrifice.” She looked over at Peter. “I appreciate your willingness to introduce us. I know my approaching you is a bit unorthodox.”

Peter shrugged slightly. “Your outreach had me curious.”

“Wait, _that’s_ why you texted me here? I thought you were just indulging in your weird thing about feeding me because I’m your sentient goldfish,” he said, doing his best to ignore Jennifer’s quiet laughter.

“I am a man of many interests.”

“Uh huh,” Stiles said flatly. He swallowed his embarrassment, certain that it’d be revisiting him later that night. He’d deal with Peter later, he decided, turning his focus onto Jennifer. “What’s your game?”

Jennifer leaned forward a bit, sliding what looked like a Shirley Temple off to the side. “I’m not here to play some sort of game for Peter,” she said. “I sought him out while I was in the area.”

Stiles narrowed his eyes at her. “And you just _happened_ to be in the neighborhood?”

She shook her head. “I was intrigued and decided to come meet you in person.”

Stiles scowled. “Isn’t that against the rules?”

Jennifer shrugged. “It probably would be, if I had more lupine characteristics. But as I am mostly entirely human, it’s only going to be frowned upon rather than outright forbidden,” she said. “If it’s any consolation, Kali knows I’m here.”

“Yeah but knowing you’re here doesn’t mean you were _allowed_ to show up.”

“Oh you _are_ clever,” she said, leaning forward a bit. “I thought Ennis was just full of shit, like he usually is, but this is a pleasant surprise.” She offered her hand to Stiles. “Call me Jen,” she said. “Push it to Jennie, with a poor attempt at a Southern accent, and I will remove your left ear.”

Stiles stared, shocked for a moment, before taking the hand. “Nice to meet you, I think. Threat aside.”

“It _is_ ,” Jen said, smile turning genuine. “Peter and I have been talking about you a bit, and I am quite intrigued. Is it true you can manipulate mountain ash?”

He nodded dumbly. “A little bit, yeah.”

“Without any training?”

He shrugged. “Deaton said I needed to believe in the dirt. Or something that basically amounted to that.”

She scowled briefly. “Alan Deaton?”

Stiles nodded.

“Huh.” Jen glanced over at Peter. “I’m surprised he’s survived this long.”

“He does have rather impressive self-preservation skills,” Peter commented. “You mentioned that Kali was aware you’re here. How long were you planning on staying in town?”

“Only overnight, I do have business down in San Francisco, and I may take the opportunity to visit Los Angeles while I’m down in Southern California. I do like mingling with people trying to catch a glimpse of celebrities,” she said. “And I understand that this was rather short notice of me, but I hope you don’t mind my interrupting your date night.”

“Not at all,” Peter said, smirking as Stiles went bright red again. “Though I suppose it can’t be much of a date night when the supposed young paramour comes in bragging about his infidelity.”

“That is true.”

“He calls me his _pet_! There’s no relationship for me to have committed infidelity on!” he said, voice going shrill a bit before he forced his voice into a whisper.

Jen grinned. “I wouldn’t be so sure of that,” she said, though she didn’t elaborate on that. “You don’t mind my joining the two of you for dinner?”

Stiles shrugged. He paused a moment before shoving the plate of nachos toward the center of the table. “Just try to avoid cynical bullshit and I guess it’ll be fine.”

“I appreciate that,” she said, glancing over at Peter before taking a chip from the plate. “And I suppose asking you how your night with your lesbian friend was is off limits?”

Stiles went red again. “It was sweet, I guess.”

“Sweet?”

“A shining endorsement,” Peter commented lightly.

Stiles shrugged slightly, ducking his gaze back to his pilfered cup of coffee. “She basically had me on the bed and rode me,” he said. “She was really sweet about all of it, but it was kind of like sleeping with a sibling, or so I’m guessing.”

“And you walked out of that room no longer a virgin,” Jen prompted. “Insured against rogue witch sacrifices.”

Stiles went red again.

“Don’t feel ashamed about it, kid. I lost my virginity to a stripper after my aunt’s bachelorette party when I was fifteen, and much for the same reasons. At least you were of age when you went about it,” she said. falling silent when the waitress came up to them.

It didn’t take long for them to settle things with the waitress - Peter ordering a coffee for himself and a mushroom swiss burger like a freak, Stiles ordering curly steak frites, and Jennifer ordering a hickory burger.

When the woman left to place their order, Stiles shot a curious look at Jennifer, only to be met with an amused smile. “I haven’t been married to a predator for six years without picking up some carnivorous tendencies of my own.” she said.

“No, that’s not it,” he said. “I’m more curious about why you stopped by, exactly. Curiosity can’t be everything.”

“Can’t it?”

Stiles scowled over at her.

She shrugged a bit. “You’re young and untrained, but for you to be able to wield mountain ash is impressive. Ennis also put in a good word after you were an absolute shit over Words with Friends, told me I might be interested in meeting you in person, so I figured I’d take the detour while I was already on the road,” she said. “And I may not be able to provide you full scope emissary training, but I can tell you a few things that can help you keep yourself protected.”

“Why?”

“Why what?”

“Why would you want to teach me a few things?”

Jen smiled slightly. “You’ve got definite potential, Stiles, and if I can do something to help you survive in our world, I’m happy to help. Competent emissaries are rare, and competent emissaries with a sense of humor are even rarer,” she said. “Ennis likes you, even if he thinks you are a little shit, and you made an impression on Alpha Blackwood. I’m curious to see what it is about you that made that impression.”

Stiles was silent for a moment.

“And why would you be unable to offer him the full scope training?” Peter asked.

“You’re still in school, aren’t you?” Jen asked.

He nodded. “I’m going into my senior year in the fall, yeah.”

“Then I wouldn’t suggest that sort of training until you’re out of school,” she said. “My training took three years of full-time study, and I didn’t start until after I’d graduated college.”

Stiles frowned slightly, brows furrowing. “Do I have to go to college before I can be trained?”

She shook her head. “Not at all,” she said. “But it is recommended that you have the training when you can focus solely on that. It’s intensive, to say the least,” she said. “Once you’ve graduated, I’m happy to get you started on that training, but I’d need you available for at least six months to get you started in a way that wouldn’t leave you unbalanced and dangerous.”

Peter snorted. “He’s dangerous now.”

Stiles preened a bit at that, shoving a handful of fries into his mouth.

Jen looked between the two of them, looking genuinely amused.

“Would you require anything else of him, if you were to take him in for training?” Peter asked.

She paused, frowning slightly. “His time is not enough to ask for?” she asked.

“What sort of compensation would you expect for this?”

“Oh! No, nothing like that would be necessary. I’d be providing your training supplies, but much of the training will be hands-on.” Jen grinned suddenly. “Continuing to antagonize Ennis could be payment enough on its own.”

Peter frowned a bit. “You’re not exactly orthodox for a witch, are you?”

Jen shook her head. “I’m an emissary, Peter. I work specifically for the benefit of my Pack, and that includes training a young man who carries the undercurrent of ozone with him. You’ll be a powerful ally once you’re trained,” she said. “If you’d like to be trained.”

“If?”

She relaxed a bit. “You’re not obligated to get neck-deep in our world if you don’t want to. If you only want me to teach you a few things to protect yourself, that’s fine. If you don’t want me to teach you anything at all, that’s also fine,” she said.

Stiles watched her for a moment, considering what she was saying, before nodding. “Thanks.”

She smiled at him. “Of course. I would have to insist, no matter how much you and I interact moving forward, that you keep my name out of Alan Deaton’s ears.”

That gave Stiles pause. “How come?”

Jen was silent for a long few seconds, taking another few nachos off the plate. “As a Druid, I’m sure he’s perfectly capable, but I am not a Druid, nor have I ever claimed to be such.”

“What does that mean?”

“Druids are slave to some intangible balance, which they keep as some big secret.” She looked at Peter, expression going deliberately neutral. “If he were a true emissary, what happened to your Pack should not have been possible. Every competent emissary I’ve met has taken almost paranoid measures to ensure their Pack house is as indestructible as possible,” she said. “When news of what happened spread, I don’t know anyone who didn’t strengthen the fireproofing wards on their homes.”

Peter hummed but didn’t say anything.

“So what does that mean? How strong are the protections you’ve placed on your house?” Stiles asked. “I’m not expecting specifics, but, like, what can wards really do?”

She hesitated, clearly not entirely comfortable discussing this. “Let’s just say it would take a direct strike from a bomb or a severe earthquake to cause significant sorts of damage on my home. Fireproofing is fairly standard ward work,” she said, her gaze once again drifting over to Peter. “That yours was able to burn was an absolute tragedy, and I’m surprised you’ve kept your pseudo-emissary alive.”

Peter shrugged. “Magic users are difficult,” he said. “He was always elusive before the fire, and I haven’t been able to figure out the caliber of friends he’s made. He’s been able to dodge my surveillance. I’m assuming with his particular brand of countermeasures, though I’m not entirely certain about that.”

Jen hummed. “I might be able to help with that. Nothing too intrusive, since we’re not in the same Pack,” she said. “I can also teach your boy some of the strongest fireproofing wards.” She looked over at Stiles. “If you want.”

“I would be grateful for anything you are willing to offer,” he said, tone stilted.

Stiles nodded, a hum of excitement settling in his bones at the prospect of actually doing magic. “Dude, yeah, that would be awesome! When can we start?”

Jen smiled. “Not until after lunch,” she said. “This is going to be draining on you. And I’d suggest we start at your house, since I doubt very much that Peter’s going to feel comfortable with a strange witch at his home quite so soon.”

Peter just hummed.

Stiles grinned, practically vibrating in his seat as the waitress returned with their food.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A sudden appearance at his side startled him, though he gave no visible reaction. He turned his head to see Jen watching him with an odd look on her face. “I thought you were going to be supervising the untrained witch.”
> 
> She hesitated for a moment, glancing over at Stiles.
> 
> The teenager was walking the length of his backyard, mumbling something under his breath. Peter cocked his head a bit to the side, focusing on what Stiles was saying. Not saying. Singing. The theme song for My Little Pony. Peter couldn’t hold back the snort.
> 
> Jen looked over at him. “Something amusing?”
> 
> “You often cast spells with songs from children’s cartoons?” he asked, shifting slightly as he leaned more fully against the back door.

Once back at the Stilinski house, it didn’t take long for Jen to get Stiles started. After a quick look around the house, she’d suggested going out to the backyard for practice, the fence backing to trees offering enough privacy that no one would be able to just glance over at them. Of course, there was the potential risk that one of the town’s werewolves could be running in the woods and decide to investigate, but Peter assured her he would let her know as soon as he sensed any of them approaching.

Not that he was expecting them.

Erica had grumbled about not being mad at Stiles when Deucalion had delivered the Pack’s probationary verdict, but neither she nor Boyd had shown any sort of indication that they were going to approach Stiles any time soon. Isaac, for whatever reason, stank of jealousy every time he so much as glanced at the teenager.

And Derek.

Peter had to physically bite back a sigh at the thought of his nephew.

He’d never been given the training a potential Alpha ought to have had - something that Peter had always been vehemently opposed to, though Talia had never cared much for his suggestions. He’d been born practically feral, she’d liked to tell him. And that may be true, but had Talia been a little less domesticated, Derek may have gotten at least a taste of the training that would have helped him know what to expect with his new rank.

A sudden appearance at his side startled him, though he gave no visible reaction. He turned his head to see Jen watching him with an odd look on her face. “I thought you were going to be supervising the untrained witch.”

She hesitated for a moment, glancing over at Stiles.

The teenager was walking the length of his backyard, mumbling something under his breath. Peter cocked his head a bit to the side, focusing on what Stiles was saying. Not saying. Singing. The theme song for My Little Pony. Peter couldn’t hold back the snort.

Jen looked over at him. “Something amusing?”

“You often cast spells with songs from children’s cartoons?” he asked, shifting slightly as he leaned more fully against the back door.

“That’s what he went with?” she asked. “I just told him to think of something that helps him focus. Helps clear the space and mentally prep the practitioner for the work they’re about to do. I usually go for Eminem myself.”

Peter watched her, lips twitching up into a slight smirk. The woman was about his height, and didn’t look particularly intimidating. The fake flower pinning her hair into a messy bun was a nice touch. “Eminem?”

“I’m a child of the nineties,” she said with an unapologetic shrug. “You strike me as a smooth jazz kind of man.”

“Not even close, but nice try,” he said. “Shouldn’t you be supervising the young witch as he prepares to cast magic instead of failing miserably at guessing the kind of music I prefer?”

Jen looked back at Stiles. “I can supervise without hovering,” she said. “Besides, I’m fully trained. If something’s about to go wrong, I’ll intervene enough to make sure that Stiles isn’t hurt and there’s no property damage.” she said. “Besides, you look like you could use some company.”

Peter laughed quietly. “First you try to suss out the music I like and now you’re offering to keep me company. If I were a lesser man, I might think you were trying to proposition me.”

She grinned. “Good thing you’re not a lesser man,” she said, knocking her shoulder against his.

He didn’t feel much of the impact, but the behavior itself was unexpected.

“The kid’s going to be practicing a fireproofing spell, Hale,” she said. her tone suddenly gentle. “If he’s going to make sure it works, he’s going to have to try and set something on fire. I figure you might not appreciate the smell of fire, especially with your little pet setting the flames.”

Unable to hold back the flinch, Peter turned his focus sharply onto Stiles. His senses tunneled in on the teenager’s heartbeat, the slight smell of wood and muffled sulfur dioxide of the matchbook Jen had given him before starting him walking around the yard. The press of his sneakers into too-dry grass, the stale heat in the air. They hadn’t had rain in almost two weeks. And Stiles would be lighting matches less than thirty feet from the back of his house. His house made of wood. Dry wood. Wood that -

“Hey.” Stiles was suddenly in front of him, a blatantly concerned look on his face. “Peter? Dude, you’re wolfing out in broad daylight.” He reached out, as though he was going to touch Peter’s face.

He flinched away violently. Tasted the coppery tang of blood in his mouth - his fangs had pierced his bottom lip.

“Peter?” Stiles asked, hand not moving. His brows furrowed as he watched Peter. “You okay, man?”

“I’m fine,” he growled.

“You’re rocking the glowing eyes and claws, dude,” Stiles said, frowning.

“I’m _fine_.”

“Bullshit,” Stiles snapped. He clenched his hand into a fist, and for a moment, it looked like he considered hitting Peter. 

Peter’s focus again sharply locked onto the young man.

Stiles held the gaze evenly. His heartbeat pounded in Peter’s ears, rapid but steady.

Peter wasn’t quite sure how long they watched each other, but he eventually felt his own heartbeat slow from it’s rapid, almost panicked percussion in his chest. He flexed his hands as he retracted his claws. “I’m fine,” he said, voice even. He ran his tongue over his lower lip, knowing the puncture wounds from his fangs would have healed but taking comfort in the physical confirmation. “I’m fine, pet.”

“You’re sure?” Stiles asked.

He nodded.

Jen hummed. “I’ll keep an eye on your wolf, kid. Back to your perimeter cleansing.”

Stiles looked over at him, an argument ready on his face.

“I was enjoying your rendition of ‘Friendship is Magic,’ pet,” Peter said, offering the young man a smirk that felt shakier than it should.

Stiles went bright red. “Don’t even front, dude. My Little Pony is awesome.”

Peter snorted.

“Right, my bad. You’re a Pinky and the Brain kind of guy,” Stiles said, flashing Peter a grin before heading back into the backyard.

Once he was out of earshot, Jen turned to him. “I thought Ennis was full of shit,” she said. “Like usual. But you’re really gone on him, aren’t you?”

Peter bared his teeth at her, holding back a growl at the amusement in her tone.

“C’mon, Hale, this is something good. You like him, he likes you. You’re both of age and capable of consent.”

“He likes me because I feed him and give him a place where he doesn’t have to be the one taking care of someone else,” he said.

Jen huffed. “And that’s why he risked you biting his arm off to try and pull you out of a panic attack,” she said. “And why he looks at you the way he does.”

“He doesn’t look at me any sort of way.”

“Seriously?” she asked. She crossed her arms over her chest and turned to face Peter fully, an entirely unimpressed look on her face. “I thought wolves were supposed to have the superior senses. Stiles looks at you with big fat stars in his eyes, and you’re not much better yourself.”

Peter rolled his eyes. “I see potential in him, and I’m stable enough to provide food and an environment where he doesn’t have to choose between being alone or playing the part of caretaker for an incompetent so-called friend or an absentee, borderline alcoholic father.”

That pulled a frown from Jen, her gaze driving back over toward Stiles. “I wasn’t aware things were so off-kilter for the kid.”

“Why would you be? I didn’t share that much about Stiles’ personal life with Deucalion when he spoke with me, and I doubt that Stiles would have described his relationship with McCall or his father that way.”

“But there’s truth to that?”

Peter just hummed noncommittally. He had no intention of divulging particular details about the younger man’s life to Jen. She may have reached out with friendly intentions, but that didn’t mean she could be trusted.

“That may explain the magic about him.”

“Excuse me?”

“It’s practically oozing out of him,” she said, gesturing at something around Stiles.

Peter cocked his head to the side, narrowing his eyes. “You can see magic?”

“Some,” she said. “He’s got a sense of power about him that’s stronger than I’ve ever seen. It’s like heatwaves. The way the air sometimes shifts and shimmers above hot asphalt? He’s got so much about him that I’m honestly surprised he’s survived this long without completely losing his sanity.”

“Is he in immediate danger?”

“I don’t think so,” she said. “It’s not out of control, nor does it look like he’s being consumed by it. It almost looks like it’s following the rhythm of his heartbeat.” She huffed, quietly amused. “He’s expending it naturally.”

“Would he still need the six months?”

“The six months is a starting point. He’ll learn how to communicate with his magic, get more in touch with it, and begin to be able to channel it with deliberate direction,” she said. “If he’s looking to get fully trained as an Emissary, with the power that’s surrounding him, I’d be willing to bet that it would take him closer to four or five years of non-stop study.”

Peter nodded absently, just absorbing the information. His gaze tracked Stiles as he continued to pace around his backyard. The teenager had switched from My Little Pony to what sounded like Pokémon.

“Are you his only wolf?” Jen asked suddenly.

Peter startled a bit at that question. “I turned his best friend when I was in a mad rage, and Stiles was able to do a surprisingly competent job at teaching him to control himself. That boy would be his first, I assume.”

Jen snorted. “If he were the kid’s true first wolf, he’d be here, not you,” she said. “What’s his position with your Pack?”

“Why are you asking this?”

“Curiosity,” she said, looking over at Peter. “My mother was a witch who shared her knowledge with me, and made sure I had access to the sorts of people who could give me the training I’d need to succeed as a witch. Once I met Kali, I was provided the opportunity to get Emissary-specific training, but I’ve always been surrounded by magic. Your boy hasn’t.” She watched him for a brief moment. “I give you my word, anything we discuss while I’m in town will remain between the two of us.”

Peter hummed noncommittally. Her heartbeat had been steady throughout those assurances. “We’re both kept on the relative outskirts of the Pack. My nephew has repeatedly pulled him into Pack matters without actually granting him access to everything that being part of a Pack entails,” he said.

“Unfortunate.”

“Indeed.”

“Has your nephew always been a dipshit?” she asked mildly.

Peter snorted. “He’s never been the sharpest in the Pack, but since he’s gotten his red eyes, he’s been nothing short of insufferable.”

Jen grinned at that. “Duke did have a few choice words about him when he came back,” she said. “I don’t think I’ve ever heard him call anyone a barmy pillock before.”

“Very British of him.”

“Oh, no kidding.” She paused for a moment. “He suggested I stop through town on my way down to San Francisco.”

“And why is that?”

“I’m not the only one that has concerns about Alan Deaton’s continued existence,” she said. “Duke asked me to poke around to see what else he’s been up to.” She nodded over toward Stiles. “I don’t see any signs that he’s tried to tamper with Stiles’ magic, but if he starts training in earnest, Stiles is going to show some signs of being a practitioner that may have him getting more attention from my sort.”

“Or Deaton’s.”

“Or Deaton’s,” she echoed, nodding once. “What magic has your boy wrought?”

“He’s manipulated mountain ash, completely through force of will, as I understand it,” he said. “And his Jeep has to be running on at least some kind of magic. Even after extensive repairs, and replacing the engine that was held together with little more than duct tape and love magic,” he said. “He was also able to evade me when I was a mad Alpha. I don’t recall any specific actions he took to escape me, but there were some actions that should not have been possible for someone who was entirely human.”

“Really?” she asked, eyebrows lifting in surprise. “And you can’t tell anything about his magic?”

Peter shrugged. “You and he both carry the same cinnamon scent I’ve always associated with magic, but I’m not particularly attuned to witch magics. His scent is stronger than yours, though that may be because it’s more familiar to me.”

Jen nodded. “That makes sense,” she said. “I’d have to do some more research, but I think you might have a Spark on your hands.”

Peter’s eyes narrowed. That term sounded familiar, but he couldn’t quite recall where he’d heard it before. “A Spark?”

“Rare, powerful sorts of mages who are capable of great works of magic with very little training. They work largely through force of will, as I recall,” Jen said. “He’s got so much power, and it hasn’t completely consumed him or driven him to insanity, so I don’t think I’d be entirely surprised if this little suspicion were confirmed,” she said. “There’s a shop down in San Francisco that might have something helpful.”

“I don’t want you spreading the sorts of rumors that will put Stiles’ life in danger,” Peter said sharply, just shy of snapping at her.

Jen shook her head. “I wouldn’t dream of it,” she said. “Untrained witches are in enough danger just by existing. I’m not going to put you or your boy in danger if I can help it,” she said. She was silent for a moment. “If he is a Spark, you’ve got quite the powerful one on your hands.”

Peter wasn’t quite sure how to respond to that.

“And if he is, the town’s resident Druid will almost certainly have a problem with him,” she said. “Especially if he’s still got his slavish devotion to maintaining his bullshit balance.”

“Deaton won’t get that close to Stiles if he’s got any sort of ulterior motives.”

Jen nodded. “Good. Courting a Spark is courting chaos, and it would be a shame for either of you to have your time cut short.”

Peter had to hold back a smirk at that. He doubted she’d approve of him quite so much if she knew he’d used the sort of magic he’d used to bring himself back to life. Then the full weight of her words sank in. “I’m not courting him.”

She rolled her eyes. “Not yet, maybe,” she said. “Give it a year and the two of you will be the most disgustingly together pair of wolf and boy the West coast has seen in years.”

Stiles walked to the center of his backyard. He glanced over at Jen, who nodded, before taking a deep breath and looking skyward. He didn’t say anything, but there was a look of intense concentration on his face.

“You should tell him,” she said quietly.

“He already knows I care about him.”

“Sure,” Jen said. “No wolf takes a pet if they don’t care, but you care about him more than that, don’t you?”

Peter didn’t respond to that.

Jen huffed, rolling her eyes. “Hale, how many people would you trust to reach out to you when you’re on the edge of a full blown panic attack?”

He still stayed silent.

“Oh, for fuck’s sake,” Jen said, sighing heavily. Without any warning, she reached her hand out, aiming for Peter’s face. Not unlike Stiles had done just a little bit ago.

Peter swiftly stepped out of her reach, glaring at her with supernaturally blue eyes and fangs slipping out.

“See?” she asked, looking entirely too smug for Peter’s comfort.

“You are not Pack, _witch_ , and you should know better than to try something so foolish.”

Jen just snorted. “And your pet, Peter, was able to reach out to you without such an abrupt reaction from you,” she said, pulling her hand back and making sure to take an obvious step back, giving Peter more space. “How about a less demonstrative question, then?” she asked.

Peter scowled at her, not entirely sure he wanted to know what that meant, coming from her.

“Just a question,” she said, holding up her hands as she met his gaze evenly.

“One question,” he said, curiosity getting the better of him.

She nodded and shot a quick glance out to the yard to check on Stiles.

Peter followed her gaze.

“Right now he’s channeling his focus to lay the key points of a fireproofing spell on his house,” Jen said, her tone suddenly going almost soft. “It’s a fairly straightforward work of magic, and it shouldn’t be too taxing on him, with the amount of magic he’s got at his disposal. Once he finishes the spell, he’s going to test it by holding a lit match to the back of his garage. If the spell works, the flames will do nothing and the match will be rendered as useless as a twig. If the spell doesn’t, the garage will start burning, exacerbated by whatever supplies inside it can be used as accelerants. We’ll all have less than a minute to make sure the fire doesn’t get out of control and none of us get hurt.”

Peter glared at her, eyes narrowed. He crossed his arms over his chest, hoping the movement would hide the fact that his claws had slid out. He clenched his fists shut, not surprised at the flash of pain that came as his claws pierced the meat of his fists and the sudden tinge of copper in the air. “I am all too aware of the risks of fire, witch,” he snapped testily, forcing himself not to look back toward Stiles. “Get to your question before I lose what’s left of my patience.”

She nodded. “Given your experience with fire, and your intimate knowledge of just how much damage it can do, it’s completely understandable that you’re uncomfortable being around it. And now, you’re watching someone who stands a potential risk of setting his house on fire and sustaining some sort of injury by fire,” she said. “How many other people would you be willing to stand here for?”

That struck Peter silent, the unexpected question cutting through his rising fear at Jennifer’s description of fire.

“Anyone?” she asked, gently probing. “Anyone else on this earth?”

He just stared at her, expression not quite placid.

Jen just offered him a small, knowing smile.

Peter scowled, glancing over at Stiles.

The teenager was making a few odd gestures with his hands.

“You should tell him,” she said.

Peter shook his head. “That would only drive him away,” he said. “And I have had enough experience being alone to last the rest of my life.”

Jen was silent for a long moment, watching him.

Peter wasn’t sure how to take that - the silent, contemplative gaze of the witch was discomfiting. He wasn’t entirely sure how to react. He did his best to hold back the fangs itching at his gums as the prolonged eye contact agitated his more lupine instincts.

Finally, she turned her focus to Stiles. She must have noticed something, as she took a step toward him. She paused, turning back to Peter. “You’ve been through a lot, Peter, and I would offer you my sympathy, if you’d take it,” she said. “And I think you should tell him.”

“I have no interest in being rejected.” Not again.

She hummed. “I think you might be surprised,” she said, before turning and walking over to Stiles.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And for a slight change of pace, let's turn to Peter's perspective :)


End file.
